Turning The Tables
by Aussie73
Summary: Title pretty much says it all! Sequel to Coffee And Conversations. Jack and Sam of course!
1. Chapter 1

_Thanks to all who've reviewed "Coffee And Conversation" and "A To Z". Too many to respond to individually — these notes would end up being longer than the story — but hugs to you all!_

_Wow, my muse is on a roll lately. Unfortunately, I have to go back to work tomorrow, so will have to gag her once more. I don't think my boss would appreciate my muse's random ramblings as much as you wonderful people seem to._

_Anyway … here goes!_

* * *

**Turning The Tables #1**

Sam Carter turned in her bed as she felt movement beside her. "Whatcha doing?" she mumbled sleepily, hugging the man and burying her head in his chest.

Jack dropped a gentle kiss onto her forehead. "Have to go back to DC," he said. "Urgent meeting with the big guy."

"Crap," she muttered, opening her eyes and letting go.

"Yeah," he agreed, standing up and pulling on the jacket of his dress blues. "I'll make it up to you, Sam," he promised.

"I know," she replied. She watched him appreciatively as he ran a comb through his hair. She'd spent almost all her adult life in the Air Force — had seen hundreds of men in a uniform — but there was just something about Jack O'Neill in dress blues …

They'd been together now for over six months, and she never tired of looking at him. Broad shoulders, tanned skin, deep brown eyes, gray hair that stuck up at the back — the man was gorgeous and he didn't even know it. Definitely yummy.

She snickered silently — who knew kick-ass USAF Colonel Sam Carter could be such a sap? Not that she'd put him on a pedestal or anything. She loved the man, but he had the ability to piss her off more easily than any man she'd ever known. And that included that twerp McKay.

Jack adjusted his tie with a grimace, then came back over to the bed. "I'll call you tonight," he said, then pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

"Mmmmm, 'kay," she said against his lips.

* * *

Sam tucked her seat under the table and sipped her diet soda while perusing the menu. God, she was starving! There was something about mall-hopping that always brought out her inner glutton. 

"Sam? Sam Carter?"

She turned and looked at the woman standing at her table. Small, slim, brown hair and green eyes. She looked familiar … "Oh, my God … Kate!" she said, getting up to hug her old room-mate from college.

"Sam. God, you haven't changed!"

"You have," Sam said, indicating the belly her old friend hugged protectively.

Kate sat down with a sigh. "My third," she said. "So much for the never getting married, never having kids thing, huh?"

"You were pretty drunk when you made that vow," Sam reminded her.

"Oh, yeah." Kate eyed Sam. "So … what about you? No ring on that finger. I take it you didn't marry … whatsisface … Jonas?"

"No."

"Good. He was creepy; thought he was some minor deity or something," Kate opined.

_If you only knew how true that became!_, Sam thought. "I'm about to order; you want to catch up for a while?" she asked.

"Yeah; I'd like that," Kate said, maneuvering her body into a more comfortable position. "So … are you seeing someone?"

"Yep," Sam said. "His name's Jack O'Neill."

"An Irish boy?" Kate grinned. "You always liked the Irish guys."

_And how_, Sam reflected. Jonas Hansen, Pete Shanahan, Jack O'Neill — all Irish boys, and couldn't be any more different from each other. "He's not your typical Irish guy," she said. "Never been big on the talking, but he's got other skills that make up for that."

"So … tell me more about him. I know you joined the Air Force — does he have a problem with that?"

Sam chuckled. "No; he's Air Force too," she said.

"Jack O'Neill … Jack O'Neill …". Kate frowned, then clicked her fingers. "The new guy at the Pentagon — heads up NORAD and the Groom Lake facility."

"Yes …," Sam said warily. How did a civilian know who Jack was?

"My husband's based at the Pentagon," Kate said. "Must be some pretty crazy stuff going on in O'Neill's branch — every other word out of Ray's mouth is 'classified'."

"Ah."

"So … Jack O'Neill." Kate frowned slightly. "Isn't he a bit old for you? He's got to be … what? Near fifty?"

Sam shrugged. "Don't care," she said. The man had the strength and stamina of a man half his age — likely due to those horrible sarcophagi — and … he was damn hot. She dug in her purse and produced a picture she'd taken recently of Jack laughing with Cassie. "That's him," she said.

Kate looked at the picture, then patted her heart. "Oh, boy," she said. "Sam; I'm in the horny phase of my pregnancy — you should not have shown this to me!"

Sam laughed. "He is gorgeous," she agreed. Especially in those rare unguarded moments when everything he felt would shine out through those beautiful brown eyes.

"So … any plans for marriage?"

"No!" Sam was horrified at the idea. Not that she hadn't thought about it — especially in those blissful post-coital moments — but she knew they weren't ready yet. "No; it's too soon. We've only been together six months, for crying out loud!"

Then she closed her eyes. God; she was starting to talk like him. Why not just get 'His' and 'Hers' towels and have done with it?

"Well, you should." Kate handed the photo back. "Someone like him isn't going to be on the market forever."

* * *

"Hey, Sam!" 

Six months and she still got a stupid grin on her face when he called her. The man had turned her into an adolescent! "Jack," she said. "How did your meeting go?"

"Pretty good," Jack said easily. "The big guy sends his greetings, by the way."

"The President?" she squeaked. "President Hayes?"

"He likes you," Jack said, "though he thinks you're nuts for putting up with me for this long."

Jack O'Neill — the man she loved — was friends with the most powerful man in the whole damn country. That was just … weird. "Oh," she said lamely.

"Fraid I won't be able to make it home this week," he continued. _Home_. He said that so casually. "But I want to make it up to you. So … what can I do?"

She thought, then an evil grin appeared on her face. "Daniel found a list you wrote about me," she said. "I want examples."

Silence.

Dead.

Dumbstruck.

Silence.

She wanted to giggle and clamped down on that urge. "Jack?" she cooed in her best solicitous voice.

"He … found it?" That was a distinct croak from the big bad-ass Major General. "And he gave it to you?"

"Yep." And now she giggled. "Sorry."

"No. It's … fine. It's cool. Gonna kill one geeky archeologist or … tie him to Vala next time they meet," he rambled. "You're serious, Sam?"

"Oh, yeah," Sam purred.

* * *

_Haven't really written established S/J before. The flirting is fun … is easy … just have to watch that blue dress scene in "Emancipation" or the end of "The Broca Divide" for inspiration … but an established relationship? Oh, boy! Trying to keep them in character with no on-screen guidance is difficult. I hope I've achieved it._

_Starrgazer: your review actually inspired the title for this sequel, so thanks to you!_


	2. Interlude

**Turning The Tables — Interlude**

Daniel Jackson — nose in a book (as usual!) — wandered into his office and stretched out a hand to his phone. "Hello?"

"Daniel …".

"Jack?" Funny how he could recognize the voice of his former CO, still best friend and constant pain in the ass. Even from Washington DC.

"You know how much I hate clichés, but you need to hear this one. Watch your back, Daniel."

"Jack?"

"You heard me; your ears don't flap over."

And Jack O'Neill — Major General and one of the most powerful men in the States — put down his bright red phone with a childish grin.

* * *

_I know - inconsistent style. The rest of this fic has been done from Sam's POV, but this had to be written! Don't shoot me! Things will go back to whatever passes for normal in my weird little head for the next part._


	3. Chapter 2

**Turning The Tables #2**

"Ah, c'mon, Sam!" the man whined. Yep; he whined. She'd never realized his low baritone voice could even get that high.

"A-ah!" she said quickly. "No welching, Jack!"

"Fine," he grumbled and looked at the list, pinching the bridge of his nose with a pained expression. "What d'you want to hear first?"

"Fun," Sam said promptly. Much of what she found fun tended to glaze Jack's eyes over. He'd even once asked her not to suck the fun out of something. "I know I'm your favorite geek, but I'm not that much fun at times."

"You're not a geek, Sam. Felger's a geek," Jack said. "You … you're an egghead. There's a difference."

He gave her an angelic smile, but she wasn't about to touch that one with a staff weapon. "You think I'm fun."

"You can be," Jack said. "Fixing up your Indian on the base?" He smirked at her. "And for a cautious scientist, you sure had fun on that Loop of Kon Garat." He gave a melodramatic sigh. "I was stuck in diplomatic meetings and you were out there getting your kicks. No justice!"

She gave him her own smirk. "Well, that's what they paid you the big Colonel bucks for," she said, choosing not to comment on the fact that he'd actually recalled an alien name correctly. Since they'd gotten together, he'd become less shy about showing off his intelligence. Though she still didn't know his IQ.

* * *

"Joyful." Another thing she wasn't sure about. Sure, since meeting this man she'd learned to take pleasure in the simple things, but the joy had been rare in her life.

"The way your eyes shine when you're on the verge of some break-through or when you find an element I can barely pronounce. D'you know how much I loved to watch you spout babble at me simply for how big those eyes of yours could get?"

"Oh, please." She gave an inelegant snort and took another spoon of ice cream. "Your eyes glazed over within ten seconds of me speaking."

"Well, I never claimed to understand what you were saying. But …" — here, Jack went a little pink and toyed with his fork … — "your enthusiasm and passion were inspiring. It was such a breath of fresh air for this cynical old soldier."

Sam felt a stupid tear spring to her eye. Jack O'Neill was never the greatest with words, but occasionally he could come out with something so wonderful that all she wanted to do was grab him and kiss him senseless. "Wow," she gulped.

Before she gave in to the tears, she decided to move on. "Kissable."

"What?" He shrugged innocently. "You're gorgeous and sexy. Of course I'd find you kissable."

"But … we only kissed that one time!" Sam said, blushing at the memory. "And you didn't exactly enjoy it." Then she recalled. "Oh … you kissed the other me. Doctor Carter."

He shifted and seemed inordinately interested in his empty plate. "Right," he muttered.

"Jack …?"

"Sam?"

"You're hiding something," she accused.

"Am not."

"Jack; I'm not Daniel."

"Duh; I think I know that much, Sam."

"I'm not doing the monosyllabic debate with you." She leaned over the table and cupped his chin, bringing his eyes up to meet hers. "Come on. Fess up."

"Ah. Hmmmm." He cleared his throat, grumbled and wriggled. "Fine. Fine. Remember that whole thing with the loops?"

* * *

"Yes …," Sam said cautiously. "Did you do something? You were staring at me across the briefing table with this … sorta dreamy … expression. Cat and the canary."

"Hmmm!" More grumbling and wriggling. "Well … it's Daniel's fault. He said if we knew the loop was going to reset itself, then we could … do anything we wanted. With no consequences."

"Ah." She decided to turn the screws a little more. "So; what did you do?"

He grinned. "Played golf through the 'gate," he said. "Hit one all the way to Alaris — a new record."

"And …?"

"Taught T how to juggle; the man's a natural. Threw pots. Rode a bike through the corridors." He gave yet another cough — he was starting to sound like Schrodinger with a hairball! "And I resigned."

"Resigned? What for?"

"Stand up."

"Jack?"

"Humor me, Sam. Stand up."

Eyeing him warily, Sam got to her feet. "Okay; I'm listening."

"Well … I changed into civvies, went to the control room and handed Hammond my resignation. And you asked me why." Suddenly he took her face in his hands and covered her lips with his. He turned and dipped her, and she found she was forced to wrap her arms round his neck to keep her balance. The kiss ended and he set her upright. "So I could do that," he added roughly.

"Wow," she squeaked. "And … did I respond?"

Now his grin was a full-on Jack O'Neill little boy grin. "You sure did. That's one sweet memory." He eyed her a little anxiously. "You're not pissed, are you?"

Lips tingling from the man's kiss, Sam shook her head. "No," she said. "I'm kinda pissed I don't remember it, but I'm flattered." He raised his eyebrows. "Really!" she said. "I mean … all the things you could've done and you chose to kiss me."

* * *

Sam braced herself for the last thing on his list. "Tormented."

"Sam; what you went through with Jolinar … then on Netu. And with that bastard Fifth." Jack took her hands in his and stroked his thumbs over the backs. "You think I don't know you still have nightmares about that son of a bitch?"

Tears sprang to her eyes again. God, she was so emotional lately! "Jack …," she muttered.

"Then there's the crap you torture yourself for — the stuff you blame yourself for. Like those Eurondans who died against the iris. Or when the Replicator version of you managed to get that cipher-thing."

Sam closed her eyes at that. "Because of me; she destroyed so much. Because of me."

"Hey! I approved the mission, remember? I made a bad call — I should have seen that you were too close to the situation."

She opened her eyes and regarded the man she loved. The man bore so much guilt, yet he had the joie de vivre of someone much younger, much more innocent. "How d'you do it, Jack?" she said. "How do you deal with the guilt?"

He didn't even pretend to not know what she was talking about. "It's a cliché, but one day at a time. Each day, it's a little easier. I can sometimes forget, but I can never forgive myself. Especially for … Charlie."

She linked her fingers with his and drew each hand up to her lips, bestowing a soft tender kiss on each one. "Thank you," she said.

She got up from the table and pulled him up. "Jack …," she said uneasily, pulling her top lip in between her teeth.

"What is it?" he said.

She closed her eyes, not knowing how to tell him. _Oh, hell! Just do it, Sam! He has the right to know!_ "Jack … I'm pregnant."

His eyes went wide and his mouth opened and closed several times. Then he let go of her hands and stormed out of the living room. "Oh, God …," she whispered. _You should have waited! He's just mentioned Charlie and you spring this on him? Nice timing, idiot!_

She went to the bedroom hesitantly, then paused as she heard drawers slamming. "Damn! Damn, damn, damn!" she heard him mutter.

She closed her eyes, feeling the tears drip down her cheeks. He didn't want this child. For all he was so good with kids — they'd always been other people's kids. Maybe he thought he didn't deserve it; that he was too old.

The door opened, and she hastily wiped a hand over her face. "Jack? Are you … okay?" she asked.

His face was flushed and his hair stuck up madly. "What? Oh, yeah!" he said. He took her chin and kissed away a stray tear. "Sam … you kinda stole my thunder," he added, then took her hand and led her into the bedroom. "Sit down and … humor an old guy, huh?"

Now thoroughly confused, Sam did so, and he sat down next to her. "Samantha Jean Carter; ass-kicking egghead and mother of my child." He gave her a huge shit-eating grin. "I'm not one for speeches, but I love you. And I want to marry you."

She gaped at him.

"So … will you?"

She continued gaping.

"Carter!"

The familiar CO bark snapped her out of her fugue and she stared into Jack's handsome face. He dug in his pocket and produced a small black velvet box. "Saw this a couple months ago, and it just said 'Sam'," he said. He flicked open the box to reveal a platinum ring with a simple square-cut sapphire flanked by two diamonds. "Sam; say something, for cryin' out loud!" he added. "Even if it's only a call to the nearest psych ward."

The ring was gorgeous, and just what she would have picked for herself if given the choice. How did he know her so well? "Oh, God …," she gulped, tears sliding down her cheeks. "God, Jack! I love you!" she said. "And, yes!"

He heaved a huge sigh. "Thank God; you were killing me there!" He took her left hand and slid the ring onto her fourth finger. "Fits perfectly," he said proudly. He tilted her chin upward and gave her the sweetest, most gentle kiss ever. "Thank you, Sam," he added seriously.

She slid her arms around him, then ducked her head into his neck, giving the soft skin a kiss. "For what?" she mumbled, now incredibly sleepy. Damn pregnancy hormones!

"For loving me."

"Always," she muttered, closing her eyes and allowing herself to drift away in Jack's strong arms.

* * *

_Incredibly sappy, but it had to be done! On re-reading this fic, I'm a bit squicky about this last part, but I couldn't see how else to do it. So I apologize if this is out of character._

_Anyway, like all you shippers I'm sure, I want Jack and Sam to have babies. Lots of little Sams with big blue eyes, and little Jacks with his mad hair. Can you imagine their kid — with Sam's curiosity and Jack's attitude? As Jack would say: "For cryin' out loud!"_


End file.
